The mountain wind howled.
Thunder coiled through the heavens like a dragon waking from slumber.
On the Azure Sky Sect's jade platform, the disciples gathered again—this time not for training, but for war.
Elder Yun Shan stood in front of them, his expression grave, holding a crimson jade scroll sealed with dark runes. The scent of iron and blood radiated from it, making the air itself feel heavy.
"It has been hundreds of years since the last sect war," the elder said solemnly. "Yet the Blood Valley Sect… dares to challenge us openly."
He crushed the seal between his fingers, and the sky trembled.
From the broken wax rose a blood-red mist, coalescing into the shape of a demonic sigil that blazed high above the peaks—a challenge sigil, ancient and binding.
"In seven days," Elder Yun Shan continued, "the Blood Valley Sect demands our disciples meet them at the Valley of Ten Thousand Souls. Their condition—"He paused, his tone darkening.
"They demand one thing: the head of a boy named Xiao Wang."
Every gaze turned toward him.
Xiao Wang stood silent, the black sword at his side humming faintly.
He didn't flinch.
Not even when some disciples muttered in fear.
"Because of him, the sect is being dragged into bloodshed?"
"Wasn't he just a newcomer?"
"Why would a powerful sect want his head?"
But Elder Yun Shan raised his hand sharply. "Silence!"
He turned his gaze on Xiao Wang. "You—speak. What have you done to provoke the Blood Valley Sect?"
Xiao Wang met his eyes calmly. "Nothing in this life."
A ripple of confusion spread among the crowd.
"In this life?" the elder repeated.
Xiao Wang's gaze drifted toward the horizon, where crimson clouds gathered. "But perhaps… debts from another life have finally come due."
The Murmurs of the Past
That night, as the sect's bells echoed through the mountain halls, Xiao Wang sat alone at the edge of the waterfall, his reflection rippling in the moonlit water. The sword lay beside him, silent, almost patient.
The memory of the sigil burned in his mind.
"The Valley of Ten Thousand Souls…"He exhaled. "That place… shouldn't exist anymore."
The sword stirred, its ancient voice whispering into his thoughts.
"You remember fragments, don't you? Of when you were not mortal."
"Fragments, yes," Xiao Wang murmured. "A throne bathed in light. A sword that cleaved stars. And a betrayal… that shattered the heavens themselves."
The voice hummed softly. "And now, the remnants of that betrayal crawl in the dirt, wearing mortal flesh. The Blood Valley Sect is one of them."
"Then they've come for the wrong prey," Xiao Wang said, his tone low. "I'm done running from ghosts."
The sword pulsed faintly, as though pleased. "Good. For seven days from now, blood will return to its rightful river."
The Sect's Preparation
Over the next days, Azure Sky Sect was thrown into chaos.
Drums of war echoed through the mountains as elders summoned spirit beasts, forged protective arrays, and distributed weapons glowing with spiritual light.
Outer disciples were sent to evacuate nearby villages; inner disciples sharpened blades and refined pills that reeked of lightning and flame.
And at the heart of it all, Xiao Wang trained.
Every dawn, he stood atop the cliff, eyes closed, letting the sword draw in the spiritual essence of the rising sun. Threads of dark energy twined through the golden aura, forming a strange balance—light devoured by darkness, yet reborn anew.
Sometimes he heard faint voices from deep within the sword's core—shrieks, whispers, prayers. Souls devoured long ago.
And one night, he felt something different.
A pulse—alive.
"You're awakening," he muttered.
"Not I," the sword replied. "We."
The Day of Battle
Seven days passed like a storm.
When the sun rose over the Valley of Ten Thousand Souls, it painted the cliffs in hues of blood and fire. The air was thick with killing intent.
Two great sects stood on opposing cliffs—Azure Sky Sect in azure robes, their banners fluttering like clouds; Blood Valley Sect cloaked in crimson, their weapons dripping with aura that stank of decay.
Between them stretched a vast chasm filled with bones—the remains of cultivators from wars long past.
This was the valley where countless lives had been consumed by ambition, hatred, and pride.
The Blood Valley Master Appears
From the crimson side, a figure stepped forward.
Tall, lean, and draped in a robe woven from the skins of beasts, his eyes glowed faintly red—like twin drops of molten metal.
"Elder Yun Shan," he said, his voice calm yet suffocating. "You've grown bold. Taking in a cursed one under your wing."
Elder Yun Shan frowned. "Cursed one?"
The man smiled. "That boy," he said, pointing at Xiao Wang, "bears the mark of the Celestial Devourer."
Gasps rippled through both sides.
Even the elders of Azure Sky looked shocked. The name was one spoken only in ancient myths—of a god who devoured stars, whose hunger once almost unmade the heavens.
Elder Yun Shan turned sharply. "Xiao Wang—is this true?"
Before Xiao Wang could answer, the black sword unsheathed itself with a sound like thunder cracking.
Dark light burst forth, swirling around him like a storm of shadows. The air trembled; the sky dimmed.
And the sword spoke—not softly this time, but in a voice that shook heaven and earth.
"I am the Celestial Devourer. And this child… is my chosen vessel."
The Feast Begins
Chaos erupted.
The Blood Valley Master laughed, spreading his arms. "So it was true! Excellent! To consume the Devourer's vessel is to claim his divinity!"
He raised his hand, and the air filled with the roars of spirit beasts and puppet cultivators—thousands of them, all bound by blood seals.
The ground split open as corpses rose, fueled by demonic qi.
The valley became a sea of shadows and red mist.
Elder Yun Shan roared, "Azure Sky Sect! Defend the mountains! Protect the disciples!"
The battle exploded like a collapsing star.
Swords clashed, spells shattered mountains, beasts screamed. The ground trembled under the force of hundreds of cultivators unleashing their full strength.
But amid the storm, Xiao Wang stood still—eyes half-closed.
He felt every drop of blood in the air. Every dying soul. Every flicker of essence returning to the heavens.
The sword whispered.
"They will die anyway. Let their deaths not go to waste."
"You want to devour them?" Xiao Wang asked quietly.
"No," the sword answered. "We will save them—in us."
And then the black aura surged.
A vortex of shadow burst from his feet, rising like a tornado that devoured light itself. The cries of the dying echoed through it, transforming into raw power that flooded into Xiao Wang's veins.
His cultivation rose madly—Qi Formation… Spirit Core… late Spirit Core Realm!
Disciples on both sides stopped mid-fight, staring in horror.
"His cultivation—he's rising mid-battle!"
"What kind of monster is that?!"
The Blood Valley Master's grin faded.
"Impossible. No mortal vessel can withstand such devouring!"
Xiao Wang's eyes opened.
They glowed—one gold, one black.
"Then perhaps I am no longer mortal."
The Birth of Fear
He moved.
One step—and he vanished.
In the next instant, he appeared before a Blood Valley elder, slicing through his protective array with a single swing. The elder's soul tried to flee—only to be swallowed whole by the sword's black light.
Xiao Wang turned to the next, and the next.
Every swing of the sword left silence in its wake.
Every soul consumed added another flicker to his growing storm.
The sky darkened entirely. Lightning forked in black arcs across the heavens.
The Blood Valley disciples screamed. "He's devouring us! He's eating our spirits!"
And still, Xiao Wang did not stop.
He fought like a divine calamity—calm, relentless, absolute.
When he finally stopped, thousands lay motionless across the valley. The bones beneath his feet pulsed faintly as if bowing.
The Blood Valley Master stared, trembling.
"What are you…?" he whispered.
Xiao Wang lifted his gaze.
"A man reclaiming what was stolen," he said quietly. "A sword remembering what it was meant to be."
The Devouring Sword gleamed with infinite hunger.
"Feast complete," it whispered. "But the heavens still owe us more."
And before the Blood Valley Master could retreat, Xiao Wang raised the sword again.
The sky split open.
From the rift poured a colossal shadow—a celestial being, chained in light and flame, descending slowly. Its voice echoed like thunder across the mountains.
"You have broken the seal, Devourer… You dare awaken the sin that devoured the stars?"
Xiao Wang's knees trembled, blood seeping from his eyes.
The sword pulsed fiercely.
"Heaven's Warden," the sword hissed. "The first of the seven who betrayed me."
"Then this is our true war," Xiao Wang said, gripping the blade tighter.
"And it begins now."
The world shattered into light.